


Peter and Chris Are Tricked Into Intimacy, a Plot by Stiles Stilinski

by CracklPop



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fake-Magic Crystals, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Snacks & Snack Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CracklPop/pseuds/CracklPop
Summary: Stiles convinces Peter and Chris he needs their sexual energy for a magical crystal that will defeat a succubus. He's lying.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Established Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale
Comments: 30
Kudos: 274





	Peter and Chris Are Tricked Into Intimacy, a Plot by Stiles Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HakeberHooligan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HakeberHooligan/gifts), [Smalls2233](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smalls2233/gifts).



> This is a very silly bunny. Thanks to HakeberHooligan and Smalls2233 for discussing jerk-off crystals and what might happen if Stiles convinced Peter and Chris to believe in them. This went pretty much brain-to-page with no editing afterward. That's fine. Future me *loves* fixing typos and plot holes.
> 
> Just assume for the purposes of this fic that all four parties are good with light voyeurism. Also with magical aphrodisiac candles. 
> 
> My version of Derek here is a super healthy werewolf who shops exclusively at the co-op and makes his own yogurt and has never eaten a processed snack in his life. It's why he looks so amazed when Peter whips out the Reese's during "Visionary." You think he's taking in Peter's life philosophies. He's not. He's like, "What is Uncle Peter eating??" Please don't tell me if canon directly contradicts me. He's Healthy Derek in this fic!

“What are they made of?” Derek asked, brow wrinkled. 

“You know…like…cheese powder,” Stiles replied with a vague gesture meant to encompass whatever snack-related wizardry Frito-Lay employed to manufacture its products. 

“But what’s under the cheese powder? Is it a chip?” Derek persisted. 

“No, it’s crunchy and squiggly shaped. Or puffy and kind of cylindrical. It’s both. I mean, there are varieties. They look different, but they’re all Cheetos.” Stiles sighed. “How can you have never eaten Cheetos? I know you’re a supernatural creature and therefore unused to human delicacies—”

“I may not be familiar with Cheeters—”

“ _Cheetos_ —”

“The…cheese things…but from what you’ve described so far, they don’t sound like much of a delicacy,” said Derek. 

“Look. I’m about to undergo the biggest test of my magical life in two days. I can’t make it without the Cheetos.”

“The special Cheetos,” Derek said, eyebrows raised. “The special Cheetos that will somehow enable you to pass your Emissary exam.”

“The Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, yes.” Stiles nodded vigorously. “But, you see, Derek, they’re only sold at certain stores. The nearest one is in Beacon Valley. At the Safeway ten miles off the freeway.”

“But how—”

“The internet. I checked. I assume that, as a person who has zero familiarity with snack food, you don’t realize how rare and valuable the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos are, but surely you recognize how important they are to my future as an Emissary?” Stiles gave Derek an imploring look, ruthlessly utilizing his Bambi-like eyes. 

Derek sighed again. “I still don’t understand why you can’t feed your brain with some nice salted almonds and salmon jerky. I smoked it myself. It’s full of omega-3s, Stiles.”

“Because I’m not trying to feed my brain, I’m trying to feed my magic. Trust me: I’m the one with the mystical spark in this relationship.”

Derek gave a small grin at that, drawing Stiles close to his chest to press a series of small kisses along his jaw until he moved in to capture Stiles’ lips with his own. Stiles moaned a little and reluctantly pushed Derek back, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“I think the spark is mutual,” Derek murmured. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a great kisser. Now go out there and hunt me down some Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. There’s no _g_ on the Flamin’, just so you know. That’s key. You might have to ask a store employee where the snack aisle is. They separate the junk food by sweet and salty, by the way. I sent you the directions to the store.”

“I’ll find the cheese, uh, things,” Derek promised, slipping his phone into his back pocket and getting his car keys.

“You’re the best wolf a boy could ask for,” Stiles said, feeling only the slightest twinge of guilt over his blatant lies regarding the availability of spicy cheese snacks. 

“Oh, I was supposed to meet up with Peter this morning—” Derek began.

“I’ll call him,” Stiles chirped immediately. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give him a call and start studying. You’ll be out of cell service most of the drive anyway, so I’m happy to do it.” 

“You’re definitely saying no to some fresh blueberries and homemade yogurt,” Derek tried again. 

“Magic needs cheese snacks of the flaming hot variety, Derek. Thank you.” 

Stiles watched his boyfriend until his car had disappeared around the corner. Then Stiles waited another ten minutes and put the next part of his plot into action. He tidied up their apartment, shifted some of the furniture around, then collected a small bag of supplies from the kitchen. 

Stage set, Stiles called Peter. As soon as the call was answered, Stiles let his breathing pick up rapidly. 

“Peter, Peter, I need you to come over to the apartment. Wait, who’s that with you? Is that Chris? Bring Chris, too. I can’t believe you two were already together—maybe we’ll be able to pull this thing off after all. No, everything’s not all right! Can’t you tell? I’m sorry, I—I don’t know how to—Derek’s gone. He’s been taken. Scott thinks it’s a succubus. He’s out looking for it, he thinks it has Derek. He’s not answering his phone and I haven’t seen him since he left for his run this morning. I talked to Deaton and we have a plan that lets me use my magic, but I need you and Chris. Yes, both of you. Come right away. I don’t know if it will hurt, Peter, but for fuck’s sake, who cares? Can’t you make a sacrifice for Derek? Was that Chris? Listen to Chris and stop being such an asshole. No, I’m not sorry. Come here now.” 

Stiles hung up and indulged in a diabolical smile. At last. Payback. He set up a circle of dried herbs and salt with the bag of kitchen supplies, placing tall, red candles at various intervals. He had just hung a large, clear crystal around his neck when Peter and Chris knocked at the door. 

It didn’t take much encouragement for Stiles’ hair to stand up at odd angles, so a few well-placed tugs put him firmly in _terrified boyfriend of missing sour wolf_ territory. Stiles yanked the door open with what he privately felt was a masterfully executed distraught expression and pulled Chris and Peter inside. He noted their workout gear and dewy, post-exercise complexions without surprise. 

Peter and Chris for months had been meeting up every day of the week in what they seemed to believe were friendly, platonic workout sessions. Stiles—and the rest of the pack—was ready for them to put the unresolved sexual tension out of its misery. 

“Over here,” Stiles urged, pushing them toward the open space in the living room. He put them near the salt circle then paced restlessly in front of them, keeping them where they were and away from trying to sit down on the couch. “So Lydia and Scott said the succubus was hunting for a werewolf specifically, and we’re sure it has Derek. 

“Succubi care about sexual energy,” Stiles continued. “I worked out a ritual and a spell with Deaton that should give me a way to defeat it.” He paused. “I need a supernatural creature and a human working together to make it happen.” 

“All right, Stiles,” Chris said, voice calm but focused. “What can we do to help?”

“The ritual is meant to be conducted in your truest, purest forms,” Stiles told him, face very serious. 

“What does that mean?” Peter demanded. 

“It means…you need to be naked,” Stiles said, fighting to keep his voice level. 

“No,” Peter stated. “Not that you wouldn’t both be _blessed_ to see all of this—” he gestured at his impressive musculature without a shred of modesty “—but I’m not going to hang around your apartment naked, Stiles.”

Stiles bit his lip and ducked his head as though to blink away tears. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but Derek…this could be Derek’s only shot,” he pleaded. 

“Of course we’ll do it,” Chris assured him, elbowing Peter hard in the ribs. Despite an inhuman tolerance to pain, Peter winced theatrically and rubbed his side with a wounded look. 

“Thank you!” Stiles exclaimed, fervent. “Now,” he continued briskly, “once you’ve lost the clothing, you both need to kneel facing each other within the sacred circle.”

Stiles ignored Peter’s sarcastic mouthing of the words _sacred circle_ and nodded approvingly as Chris stripped out of his shirt without ceremony. As Chris manfully removed his running shorts and Peter reluctantly pulled off his fitted athletic wear, Stiles busied himself with lighting the candles. 

Finally, both Chris and Peter were inside the circle of salt and herbs, unclothed, and avoiding each other’s eyes. 

“Perfect,” Stiles said with a nod. He lifted the heavy crystal from his chest and showed it to them. “Because the succubus is tied to sexual energy, we need opposing sexual energy to combat it. The raw power of a supernatural creature balanced by the lighter energy of a human. I’ll provide the magic, but I need you both to provide the…juice, shall we say.”

Peter snarled and began to stand, but Stiles wielded his Sad Bambi Eyes without remorse and murmured _but what about Derek?_ Peter subsided with a quieter growl, but he didn’t look happy. 

“You can make it quick. Just, you know, focus on the crystal and jerk off,” Stiles said. 

Chris smothered a laugh and Peter raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“I’m trying,” Stiles put in defensively. “Think about whatever. I don’t care. Just build up your sexual energy and I’ll put it into this magical crystal.” 

“What is my life,” Chris muttered. “Magical sex crystals….”

“Fine,” said Peter shortly. 

Stiles, unable to resist at last, peeked under his lashes at the girth of Peter’s cock and the intimidating length of Chris’. He clutched the crystal and mumbled something theatrical-sounding and mostly nonsense. He hoped Peter was too busy attending to his hardening prick to notice that the Latin had more in common with Stiles’ favorite video game lore than anything genuinely supernatural. 

At first, Chris and Peter stared intensely at the carpet in front of them, hands moving in unintentional unison on their own bodies. Stiles sent tendrils of his own power toward the candles, making them burn brighter and faster, releasing their subtle scent. It made _him_ feel a little frisky, and he knew what was happening.

Peter and Chris, oblivious, inhaled and began to stroke faster. Stiles made the crystal begin to glow a tiny bit. 

Peter glanced up first, blue eyes catching on the movements of Chris’ long, elegant fingers and seeming unable to look away. Then Chris ran his gaze over Peter’s magnificently muscled chest and back down to his straining thighs. 

Stiles bit down on his own knuckle, torn between laughter at the magical sex crystal nonsense and guilt over just how hot he was finding their mutual masturbation. 

“Why don’t you help each other out?” he suggested in an insinuating whisper. “The spell would love it.” 

Peter and Chris were staring into each other’s eyes now, blue on blue, their torsos glistening with sweat. Stiles could only imagine what Chris must smell like to Peter. 

“Perfect,” Stiles breathed. “Think about the magical sex crystal and let your pleasure flow.” He wondered what else he could get away with saying while they were wrapped up like this. “It would probably make the spell a lot more powerful if you kissed.”

He held his breath as Chris leaned forward to take Peter’s jaw in his free hand before pressing their lips together. Peter made a wonderfully whimper-like noise and bit at Chris’ mouth eagerly. 

“The jerk-off energy is so powerful,” Stiles mumbled. “This magical crystal is super…uh…powerful now.” 

Chris and Peter moved closer, knees touching, hands coming together to join both their cocks within one circle. They licked and sucked and panted. Stiles was transfixed, the crystal dangling forgotten from his fingers. 

Peter groaned and thrust up, looking painfully close to orgasm. 

Right then, of course, was when Derek reappeared, bursting through the door with a happy exclamation. 

“Stiles! I found those cheese things at the gas station when I had to stop for—” Derek broke off, a thunderous expression banishing his earlier cheer. “What. The fuck. Is happening here.” 

“I can explain!” Stiles cried. 

“Magical…sex crystal,” Chris got out, trying to catch his breath and simultaneously leap into his clothing. 

“I thought you’d been kidnapped by a succubus!” Peter whirled on Stiles, who threw himself at Derek. 

“Wait,” Chris scowled, jerking his shirt down. “Is that crystal not magic? But then why—what—”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, flashing his eyes. 

“You two deserved the magical jerk-off crystal,” Stiles informed them hotly. “Did you think I wouldn’t pay you back for your little prank?”

“What—“ Derek stopped, then glanced away, but not before Stiles had caught the smirk. 

“It’s _not funny_ ,” Stiles hissed. “And you two should remember who you’re dealing with the next time you want to screw around with someone.” 

“Come on, Stiles,” Peter soothed, calming down and brushing his hair back into place with practiced movements. “It was a harmless joke.” 

“I was afraid of Derek’s dick for _weeks_ ,” Stiles yelped. “Weeks.”

“Well, was it our fault you were so credulous as to believe that werewolves had knots?” Peter inquired innocently. “Surely someone with your research abilities should have been more thorough in his anatomy studies.” 

“You had Chris back you up!” said Stiles through clenched teeth. “Chris Argent, Moral Compass, Self-Tortured Hunter, Humorless Father Figure. What else was I supposed to think but that Derek would…that it would….” 

Derek wordlessly pulled Stiles closer to him in support, although Stiles was sure his boyfriend was still laughing on the inside. 

“Anyway,” Stiles added, sweet-voiced and vicious, “ _you’re_ one to lecture, Peter Hale. If you want to see a great example of someone ignoring something obvious, take a look in the mirror.”

“What does that mean?” Peter asked with a toss of his head. “I’m one of the most self-aware people I know. No, the most self-aware.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles snorted. “That’s why you were hard as a rock, two seconds from coming all over Chris’ naked body. Because you’re super self-aware.” 

“We’re just friends,” Peter protested, annoyed. “It’s simple stimulation. Anyone would have—”

“I’m going to go,” Chris broke in, face pale. “I’m—I’ll see you later. Stiles, I apologize for the…knotting business. You’ve had your revenge.”

He crossed the room in a few swift strides and closed the door firmly behind him. 

“See?” Stiles gestured toward the door and then back at Peter.

“See what?” challenged Peter. “You put him in a humiliating position and he wanted to leave.”

Derek briefly put his head in his hands then looked over at Peter with a long-suffering face. 

“He likes you. Uncle Peter. He has for a while. I thought you were just playing some kind of…mating game.” 

“What?” Peter stared at Derek blankly. “Christopher? Argent?”

“Yeah. The Christopher Argent who had your dick in his hand ten minutes ago,” Stiles said. 

“But….” Peter shook his head as if to clear it. 

“You should go after him,” Derek advised. 

“I—” Peter nodded once then hurried out the door. 

“Weeeelllll,” Stiles sighed, waving a negligent hand to douse all the candles at once. “That was at least partially successful.” 

“Stiles.”

“What? I know you were tired of the UST, too, Derek, you can admit it.”

“The what?”

“UST. Unresolved Sexual Tension,” Stiles explained, collapsing onto the couch with a satisfied air. “Maybe now they’ll actually talk to each other. Go on a date.”

“The way you talked to me after you thought I was going to grow a knotting dick?” Derek asked pointedly. 

“I did…eventually,” Stiles said. 

“You avoided me for a week and then kept telling me you were too tired. I thought you were sick,” Derek reminded him. 

“Hmm,” Stiles replied, noncommittal. 

“I’m only saying that maybe you should try communicating with me the next time you want to set up something like this.”

“You’re saying you’d actually help me get Peter and Chris naked and jerking off together?” Stiles asked in disbelief. 

“Well. Maybe not that exactly. But a practical joke? On Peter? Helping my naive little boyfriend get revenge? Any time.” 

Derek sat down next to Stiles and brushed a wayward strand of hair off his forehead. 

“I’m here for you, Stiles. I’m here to get your ridiculous cheese snacks, I’m here to make sure you eat enough real food to keep you going. I’m here.”

Stiles curled up next to him and relaxed. 

“I know. Thanks. And thanks for the Cheetos. I’m sure I’ll be an Emissary by the time the week is up.”

“I still can’t believe I got so lucky,” Derek murmured, twining their fingers together. 

“Yeah, I feel pretty lucky, too,” Stiles said happily.

“They were right in the front counter when I checked out at the gas station. Four bags of them! Flamin’ Hot, just like you wanted. And I only had to go one town over.” Derek flipped one of the red bags over and let out a horrified breath. “Stiles, do you know what’s in these?!”


End file.
